


That Went Well

by Sparklefists



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Snark, Swearing, Thiefshipping, rated Teen for Bakura having a foul mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6571828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparklefists/pseuds/Sparklefists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bakura isn't exactly the kind of person who fits in well at a nice family dinner, but Malik insisted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Went Well

“Are you _fucking kidding me_? It was an unmitigated disaster!” 

Bakura shoves his hands further into his pockets and lengthens his stride, stamping away from the restaurant, forcing Malik to hurry to keep up. “ _Think that went well_ my ass,” he mutters.

“I _do_ think it went well!” Malik objects, his tone bordering on petulant. “That is, I think it went better than it could have gone…”

Bakura snorts. “Oh, well, in that case, you’re _completely right_. Rishid could have _actually_ murdered me with his fork, not just silently yet blatantly considered it. I didn’t think people could make such specific threats with just a glare. And trust me, Malik, I’ve been on the receiving end of more than a few murderous glares in my time.” He’s biting the words out, breath puffing sharply in the cold air.

“Rishid is just very protective of me. He warmed up to you, didn’t he? He was telling jokes by dessert!” Malik’s eyeing the taxis driving past as he speaks, but Bakura’s striding with single-minded determination down the pavement with obviously no intention of stopping for long enough to hail one.

“That wasn’t a joke! That was an obvious, unveiled threat! He didn’t even laugh, Malik.”

“Isis laughed…”

Bakura stops walking so abruptly that Malik almost slips on the icy pavement.

“Because your sister finds the idea of my untimely and violent death appealing.” Bakura glares at a couple walking in the opposite direction who both turned to stare at his dramatic claim; they quickly look away and hurry past, while Malik muses that it would be nice to stroll along holding hands and judging _other_ couples for once.

“… What, you’re not even going to bother to deny it?” Bakura stamps off again.

“Hmm?” Malik stops thinking about holding Bakura’s hand and resumes thinking about reining in Bakura’s temper, jogging a step or two to catch up. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want you dead, ‘Kura.”

“ _Pretty sure_.” A laugh almost as cold as the night air. “So she just wants me gone.”

“That’s a little harsh–”

“She’s a _little harsh_!” Bakura growls.

“Is this about the pork? Because you kind of started that…”

“You people aren’t even Muslim!”

“If we were, would you have restrained yourself?” Malik’s tone is dangerously sweet.

“Roast pork is my favourite food! And I didn’t _aim_ for her.” Stamping across a road, glaring down a car that pulls to a halt just in time to avoid hitting him.

“Well you didn’t exactly _not_ aim for her. You seemed a little … gleeful.” Malik’s too used to Bakura’s total lack of regard for road safety to care. “I actually think she was entirely justified in her response.”

Bakura mutters something that sounds a lot like, “My life flashed before my eyes.”

Malik’s grin widens. “Are you a little bit _scared_ of dear Isis, 'Kura?”

He levels a death-glare that would send a lesser person running back into the traffic, but Malik just lets out a delighted bark of laugher. “You _are_!”

“Don’t you even _think_ about–”

Malik waves a hand airly and interrupts. “No way would I tell her. She certainly doesn’t need the confidence-booster. Anyway, once we moved past the pork thing…”

“We _moved past it_ with a twenty-minute long lecture about the ideals of faith and heritage and generally not-committing-blasphemy which I felt was just-fucking-maybe aimed at me,” Bakura snaps.

“Oh, you’re overreacting, it was also aimed at me. … Because she’s become a lot more worried about how much blasphemy I might be committing since I started dating you!”

Bakura glares.

Malik grins back, undaunted. “And it was sacrilege more generally, not just blasphemy.”

“My mistake,” Bakura rolls his eyes. “I was distracted at that point by how your thug of a brother can make a fork look sharper with his facial expression.” Malik laughs, which Bakura ignores. “I suppose it makes sense that he can communicate so eloquently with his face, since he doesn’t fucking talk.”

“He talks! He told that joke. He ordered from the waitress. He even told a story!”

“That wasn’t “a story”. It was a thinly-veiled metaphor! And frankly, I thought you might object to his assumptions of what your dead mother wanted in a son-in-law. And how many times do I have to tell you; _that was a threat, not a joke_!”

Malik grabs Bakura’s arm.

“What!”

“We live this way.” Malik gestures to the street just behind them, that Bakura had ranted past. Bakura huffs sourly, but he doesn’t pull away.

“They don’t approve of me.”

“I didn’t think you’d care.” Malik slides his hand down, into Bakura’s pocket, to lace their fingers together as they start walking again.

“I _don’t_ care!”

“Oh, good.”

Malik enjoys the silence, walking along, holding Bakura’s hand. It’s undeniably an uncomfortable silence, but Malik was _raised_ on uncomfortable, choking, suffocating silences. Silences under the stars, holding someone’s hand, how bad could they really be? Even if his incandescent boyfriend was maybe plotting his siblings’ deaths. He was pretty sure Bakura wouldn’t go through with it.

“It was an unmitigated fucking disaster, is all I’m saying. They hate me.” He’s growling again, but softly.

“They’re nervous of you.”

“ _They’re_ nervous of _me_?!”

Malik rolls his eyes. “Well, you are pretty much the definition of a “bad influence”.”

That finally draws the hint of a smirk from Bakura.

“I don’t care if my siblings approve of you or not. And you don’t care. So who fucking cares? They’re my family, and that’ll always be important to me, but … I chose you.”

Bakura’s hand tightens on Malik’s. Outright expressions of anything approaching love or affection are usually reserved for the middle of the night, when they can pretend the cold light of day will burn away any sentimental nonsense. They keep walking, Malik looking up at the sky, Bakura frowning at the horizon.

“… Thank you for coming, 'Kura.”

Bakura bites back a smile and looks away, hoping Malik can’t tell he’s starting to blush.

“So…” Malik grins. “… Is that a “no” to Isis’s birthday dinner?”

**Author's Note:**

> Bakura’s not actually scared of Isis. Just a little wary. But he knows that attempting to argue that distinction with Malik is just going to amuse Malik more.


End file.
